Afterwards
by boredandlazy01
Summary: What happens next. A series of narratives and one shots about the trio's futures.


**The Funeral**

"...taken from us long before his time, like so many others. His family is known by most in the community, and have fought the hardest of anyone these past years. They will continue to be a light for this new future, and his inseparable twin, George, has survived to see our new world. But nothing will replace Fred in the hearts of those who knew him. A joker even in the darkest of times, a young entrepreneur who followed his dreams, he fought fearlessly with a smile for those he loved..."

_Ron told him that, _thought Harry. He wondered how many services this minister had conducted in the past week, how many 'fought valiantly' and 'were a light to all who knew them'. This man hadn't known Fred. Some brief interviews with his family and friends had served to compose his last farewell to the world.

There had been debate, after the battle, over whether to hold a service for all the dead or draw it out and do them separately. Most of the families had wanted individual funerals, understandably. But Harry wondered now whether it wouldn't have been better to honor the fallen all together, instead of holding so many funerals that they became mundane. And no one had the heart to attend them all. This was Harry's fourth that week, when really he should have been at many more, up and down the country.

He saw his bleakness reflected back in the faces of the Weasley men. He'd seen them all cry over the past week, many times, but to a man they were dry-eyed now. Sharing in his anger that this boring service was how Fred would go out. If only he'd been there to make a joke about it. Harry knew he would have, somehow.

The women weren't so bitter. Mrs. Weasley's back shook in her seat as she sobbed, while Ginny, sitting next to her, tried to comfort her with red eyes. Mr. Weasley held her on the other side. Hermione sat beside Harry, with her face down and her eyes squeezed closed, as if fighting a terrible pain. For once, she and Ron weren't holding each other.

Harry was so depressed, he almost felt like asking the mourners to bury him while they were at it. How was this winning? It was a hollow victory that left the world without Fred Weasley.

"And now, the person who knew him best, George, is going to say a few words."

Harry, and everyone else, nervously watched George step up to the pulpit. No one was sure he would be able to do this, but no one had thought it right to stop him, either. How could they?

George stood there, looking down at the pulpit, and seeming more like a little boy to Harry than the George he knew. He began to speak without looking up, "Everyone always thought we were the same, me and Fred. But we weren't. He was the one who started everything. He always talked first. Without him, we never would have left school, or started our business, or done anything fun. And I think...there are probably a lot of people out there who would have had a lot less fun if it wasn't for Fred." He paused for a moment.

"...There was more to him than fun, of course... He could be a right grumpy bastard early in the morning. And he used to drive himself bonkers over girls sometimes." There were chuckles from some, but George's eyes flicked, just for a second, to a weeping Angelina Johnson as he said it. "But I know he'd want to be remembered as a joker. He fought so his family and the people he cared about could laugh again. He just wanted everyone to be happy, and for the world to stop being so depressing..." George's words were starting to become choked, which, out of all the Weasley family, marked the first time that week Harry had seen George cry. He'd seemed like too much of a ghost for anything so human. George took a deep breath and a moment to collect himself. "I was thinking of asking for a moment of silence for everyone to think about Fred... But, Fred really hated silence, so..." George simply nodded his head, still bowed, and stepped from the pulpit.

He walked quickly to his seat, and sat looking at his knees. The balding minister stepped back up to the pulpit.

Eventually, the ceremony moved from the church to the graveyard. There was no coffin to carry, and no burial, as Fred's will had specified he be cremated and his ashes scattered 'somewhere good'. Most twenty year-olds didn't have wills, but such was war. So instead there was a memorial.

A life-size marble statue was placed among the headstones, depicting a decent representation of Fred and his grin, wearing his Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes uniform. Carved and donated by a fan of the twins' wares, on the bottom it bore Fred's name, his dates and the words 'never do something boring unless you really have to'. The epithet was probably inspired by the Skiving Snackboxes, but it suited Fred perfectly. And, considering all the hardship Harry had been through in the last years, it was a message he fully intended to take to heart from now on. Perhaps everyone would have to be a bit more Fred in Fred's absence.

But the contrast between the smiling statue and the little urn on a stand in front of it made Harry feel like all the laughter in the world had turned to ash and shared a jar with George's twin.

Ron wept, as the closing words were said, and Hermione squeezed her arm tight around him as if it might shut off the tears. There was Ginny, still trying to comfort her parents while crying herself. Hagrid sobbed quietly, behind the family, with a sombre Professor McGonnagal. Percy stood ashen, Charlie putrid, and Bill and Fleur seemed to be crying in disbelief more than anything. Maybe being in such a happy couple made it difficult to believe these terrible things could still happen. Harry remembered that state of mind, vaguely.

Then there was George, eyes on the grass, looking like he had other things on his mind. No one knew what would become of George.

"Our Freddy, our Freddy; who would have thought it, hm? A hero. He was always rude to me, of course, but you can't hold it against the poor boy now, can you?"

"Suppose not," said Harry.

"And _poor _Molly. Arthur Weasley married above himself there, and she gave her life to those children, and now this. One twin dead, and the other one sure to follow," Muriel sighed sadly.

Harry didn't stop himself from scowling. He was in no mood to be polite to Ron's bitchy old aunt. "I wouldn't say that. He's got a lot of people there for him."

"Oh I hope you're right, Mr. Potter, I hope you're right. But I never saw those two apart from the day they were born. Molly should have separated them more, if you ask me. A terrible loss to recover from."

Harry pretended to be looking for someone in the crowd. "Sorry, I just need to find someone." And he hurried away, leaving Muriel stammering that it was fine. Her treatment of him was significantly different to when he'd been Cousin Barnaby.

In reality, there was no one he really wanted to find, other than solitude. Once out of view of Muriel, he grabbed another glass of firewhiskey (Fred's favourite brand) and a ham sandwhich. Ignoring the perpetual glances of many of the mourners at The Burrow, he left the cramped downstairs and headed up to Ron's room, trudging up the flights of stairs. He opened the door to find Ron and Hermione sitting on the bad, kissing passionately. They broke apart, and it was clear that Ron had been crying again. "Sorry," said Harry, as he turned to leave. He wanted to let them have their moment.

"Oh, Harry," said Hermione in her scolding tone of voice, "don't be silly. Stay."

"...No thanks; I think that might get a bit weird."

Neither of them looked particularly amused, so Harry just went and sat on the bed next to Hermione.

"How many of them have you had?" she asked, looking at Harry's glass.

"...Too many," Harry concluded, as he analysed the contents of the tumbler while it seemed to shimmer just slightly at the edges. He took a bite of his ham sandwich, and then another swallow of firewhiskey. He noticed an empty glass behind Ron.

"Just couldn't take it down there anymore," Ron said, his voice hoarse.

Harry nodded. "Me neither."

"What sort of stupid tradition is this, anyway? Your brother dies and then you have to put on a big party and be really nice to every dope there." Ron shook his head in disgust. "I bloody hate funerals." Hermione rubbed his back, still looking pained.

But she turned to Harry after a few moments. "Have you seen Ginny?"

"No." And he had been looking out for her. "Have you?"

She shook her head. "Not since we first came back here."

Harry was a bit concerned. "Wonder where she is."

"Have you...talked to her at all, Harry?" Ron inquired hesitantly.

"You mean today?"

"I mean since everything. About you two, or...anything?"

Harry shook his head. "I didn't want to...I dunno, take advantage of her with all this. We never agreed we'd just start up again if I...survived. There might be someone else, or..."

"There isn't," Hermione interrupted. "And she could have really used your support this week, Harry. Why have you been avoiding everyone?"

Harry had spent the past week in the magical tent they had camped in last year, for a number of reasons. It didn't exactly have pleasant memories, but now it sort of reminded him that the fight was over. Voldemort was gone. And he'd needed some time alone, away from the Wizarding World. He had called into the Burrow three times, though. "I haven't been avoiding everyone. I just didn't want to intrude."

Ron and Hermione both groaned in frustration. "There's noble, and there's you," said Hermione.

"An absolute twat," Ron clarified.

Harry sighed, frustrated. "Yeah great, I'm a twat; I know." He shook his head. "I think I'm going to go look for Ginny."

Hermione nodded. "You should. And for once Harry, _don't _be a twat." She gave him an unusually stern look as she said it.

Harry sighed again as he stood. "Just cos you two got your act together after _years _of being idiots doesn't mean you're now the world authority on relationships." He left the room before they had time to respond.


End file.
